


Project Quantum Angel

by Noctumsolis



Category: Quantum Leap
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-15 03:28:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15403950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noctumsolis/pseuds/Noctumsolis
Summary: More than two decades after the disappearance of Doctor Sam Beckett and subsequent shuttering of project Quantum Leap a new generation, with a new task, have reopened and expanded the project complex. No longer risking a leaper, Project Quantum Angel makes use of an unforeseen element of the original project.





	Project Quantum Angel

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea I've been toying with for years, and now I feel that the time has come to write it. 
> 
> Since it is set some time after the series ended there will be little appearance of canon characters, but you can expect some references and a couple of special cases.

Politics is strange, more so than anything in quantum physics. However chaotic the quantum realm it obeys certain rules that can be logically understood. But politics? It swings back and forth and seems to gain energy every time. 

After a terrible time in the history of this nation, which I scarcely need detail, the change in government was nothing short of revolutionary. Not, thank goodness, in the traditional sense of massacres and hypocrisy. No, it was a revolution of perspective. It seems, at last, that we have an administration that wants to do good. 

I fear that that may change again but, for now, I'm glad to be where I am. This remote mountain in New Mexico, with all the funding anybody could ever dream of and with but one goal:

To do right by children who once were wronged.

— Personal journal of Doctor Sarafina Johnson, initial entry, 2025 August

#### 1974 July 17

The problem with the Imaging Chamber was that torches didn’t help. When the Target was in the dark, the Observer couldn’t see any better. On the bright side, so to speak, the terrain and obstacles around the Target were completely physically absent from the Imaging Chamber.

So Lilly was able to walk quickly through the insubstantial forest, dark as the womb, until she heard sobbing. The other problem with the Imaging Chamber being its targeting; it could put you in the right area, but there was always a margin for error. Lilly slowed so that her own footfalls wouldn’t mask the direction that she needed to go.

With an intake of breath the crying ceased; that was usually the sign that the Observer had been spotted. It might be only a moment before screaming replaced the silence so these seconds were vital and tone of voice was everything.

“Lebron? It’s okay, I’m here to keep you safe. My name’s Lilly.” While she spoke, Lilly softly walked a semicircle until Lebron came into view, despite the total darkness. “I know it’s been scary, but I’m here now and I won’t leave you. I won’t leave you.”

“Okay,” the boy scarcely more than whispered. He was cross-legged and hunched, although the night was warm. His orange, green and white striped tee-shirt was ripped, his denim shorts encrusted with dirt, but he seemed otherwise unharmed.

Lilly asked him, “Is it okay if I sit down?”

Lebron nodded, but tucked his head back down. Lilly folded her legs on the chamber floor, a couple of feet from the miserable child.

“You’ve been here for a while, huh?”

“Mmhmm.”

“You’ve been so brave, but you should’ve told someone what you were doing. You know?”

Lebron sniffled, “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Lilly echoed, “but you’re okay now.”

Lebron shrugged. Lilly’s lip twitched sympathetically.

“I’m sorry you didn’t find him.”

Lebron didn’t answer at first, so Lilly waited. Either he’d speak, or she’d wait until he seemed ready for something else.

After a few seconds he said, very quietly, “I found him.”

Lilly waited again. It felt like more was coming.

“Something got him,” Lebron told her, his voice flat in a way no six year old’s ought to be.

_Shit shit SHIT! 7.8% well thanks for that one, Ziggy!_

“I’m so sorry. He was a good dog.” 

“Yeah,” said Lebron, with a child’s natural acceptance that everyone knew how good his dog had been, “He was the best.”

“And you’ll always remember how good he was, Lebron. He’ll always be there inside.”

“I WANT HIM BACK!” shouted the boy before bursting into fresh tears. “I! WANT! HIM! BACK!”

Holograms couldn’t hug; that was another problem with the Imaging Chamber. Lilly couldn’t even lay a comforting hand on the sobbing child. 

“I know you do”, she said, for she had to say something, “Just like he’d want you back, if he were crying in the dark. He’d want you safe. He wouldn’t want you out here. He wouldn’t want you hurt for him.”

In her pocket the Handlink vibrated. She fumbled for the golden tablet and read the message from a panel like inset obsidian: 

PROBABILITY OF FATALITY: 67%  
OVERALL CHANGE: -43%  
LAST CHANGE: +4% 

_Fuck. Wrong tack. Pull it back, Lilly._

“I know it hurts. It hurts so badly. But everyone wants you safe. Benj would want you safe.”

Of course he was still crying. Lilly couldn’t be sure how much he’d hear, or how well he’d understand at his age. But she’d keep talking, being present, with her gentle voice. She wouldn’t let him die in that ravine.

Eventually, after plenty of tears and innumerable soft words, Labron began shrilly repeating the words Lilly had been waiting for. 

“I want to go home,” he said, “I want to go home!”

Lilly stifled a sigh of relief. This was, after all, why she was here. 

“Alright,” she told him, “we can go home. I'm going to turn on some lights, okay?”

Lebron nodded, still crying, and Lilly retrieved the handlink.

When the Target was in darkness so was the Observer, because what one saw, both saw. But, while the Observer couldn't usefully employ a torch, there was a workaround. At the press of a button every surface represented in the Imaging Chamber became visible, as though all were coated high viz tape and the viewer indeed held a bright light. 

“Wow,” Lebron said in a low, awestruck tone.

At the touch of another button a beam of light, resembling a laser, shone from the handlink.

“This points the way we should go,” Lilly said, “We follow where the light points, and soon you’ll be home.”

On the way home, although it would be foolish to believe he was unfazed by his ordeal, Labron seemed in better spirits. He was entranced by the strange light, as anyone might be. Along the way he asked The Question, “Are you an angel?”

Project guidelines were clear on this one: Neither confirm nor deny, reassure and redirect.

“I was sent to help you,” Lilly answered, then by good fortune spotted something to point out, “Look, see that owl?”

Lebron followed her finger and the owl, as if offended by the gaze of a human, shrieked. The boy jumped, then actually laughed.

They walked on, occasionally looking at nocturnal wildlife otherwise seldom seen. As they neared Lebron's home the guidelight faded from amber to green.

“I have to tell you,” Lilly began, thinking again of guidelines, “that your parents won’t be able to see me or these lights. It would be easiest if you don’t mention them. They’ll be so glad to have you home, anyway, that they won’t really care how you found your way.”

Lebron nodded, uncertainly. “Okay,” he said and then, “Thank you.”

Lilly smiled with total sincerity, “You’re so welcome, Lebron. Now you go home. Be careful and have a good life.”

He turned and ran to his house, where he banged on the door. Lilly watched until he was inside, then activated the door and walked out of the Chamber.

#### 2026 January 14

Corridor lights were synchronized to conditions inside the Imaging Chamber, so when Lilly stepped through the glowing doorway it was into the same low light as that which she left. The lights would gradually brighten, allowing the Observer’s eyes to adjust.

About a meter from the doorway stood a tall black woman with hair pulled into a bun and wearing an outfit that felt like a nineteen-eighties power suit re-designed by somebody with good, and pleasantly flamboyant, taste. Like a lot of people who’d been at the project for a while she also wore a necklace that gradually shifted from one glowing hue to another.

“Well done,” said Dr Johnson with a kind smile, “Your first mission was a complete success; you’re one of us now.” She transferred her handlink, with which she’d no doubt monitored Lilly’s progress, to her left hand and held out her right.

Lilly shook the proffered hand, feeling rather flushed and said, “Thank you, Doctor Johnson.”

The Director’s mouth twitched a little higher at one corner. She gestured down the corridor and said, “Please join us in the lounge,” before striding off.

They had to take the elevator since the lounge was on level one, being part of the complex left over from the mysterious precursor to the current project. It was a short walk from elevator to lounge, and just as well. Most personnel avoided the old areas as much as possible; it made people uneasy, as Lilly had soon discovered for herself, as though it were haunted by more than rumours of sorrow. 

Perhaps it was because most people involved with the project spent so much time thinking about, or projecting into, recent history that the lounge decor was so old fashioned. There was a lot of beige, with large, chunky upholstered chairs and charmless tables supporting potted, long-leaved plants. There was art, of a sort, on the walls that tended to leave the impression of neon backlights having been judiciously switched off.

In its provision of caffeination the room had been brought blessedly up to date, with a machine equipped to produce a considerable variety of hot beverages and engineered to hydrate an army. There would be no stale coffee or revolting, reconstituted, unidentifiable brown liquids such as previous generations had been compelled to endure.

It was to that minor miracle of modern automation that Dr Johnson immediately went, calling over her shoulder, “What would you like? Coffee to perk up, hot chocolate to relax?”

Lilly performed the split second evaluation of someone being offered options by their project’s director, “Coffee, please. Latte. I’d be happy to make it,” she added with barely perceptible delay.

Dr Johnson fitted pods into the machine with practiced ease, remaining silent until she took a seat by one of the tables whose resident plant left more than a square inch of available surface area.

“Oh,” she said, apparently surprised, “do please sit down. You’re onboard now, you can relax.”

Lilly smiled, rather deliberately, and took the seat on the other side of the table. She picked up the mug that Dr Johnson was not holding and held it under her nose. For a fraction of a second she wondered if she detected a smirk on the director’s lips, but it was gone before she could be sure that it was there.

“In case I haven’t said it yet, congratulations. I know that prevention of mortality must seem daunting as a first assignment; you handled the stress remarkably well, judging by the change function.”

Lilly glanced down, bashful but also slightly peeved, _What did “must seem daunting” mean, exactly?_

“It was much better once I could shed some light on the situation,” she allowed, “once I could show him safety.”

Dr Johnson nodded, “That’s what it’s all about, after all. Showing children the way to safety. Isn’t that what you always wanted to do?”

Lilly smiled wryly, “Yes, but I never dreamed I could do that so literally. I always thought the forests I led them through would be more metaphorical.”

“You’ll find yourself in plenty of those, as well,” the director told her, in a tone that suggested something more was coming, but at that moment the door powered open. 

They were joined by a slight, white woman, nudging elderly but wearing illuminated earrings with surprising panache. She fixed bright eyes on Lilly. 

“Well done!,” she said jovially, “How was the handlink?”

Dr Johnson gave an amused huff, but Lilly answered, “It was good, did just as needed.”

In the face of the old scientist’s pleased smile the director remarked, “They work every time, you needn't fret, Tina.”

“Oh, I know really, but I just can't get used to it.”

Lilly knew as much from the weeks of orientation. Tina was clearly proud of the new model, while her remarks on the old tended to include the term “percussive maintenance.”

“Well,” said Dr Johnson, draining her mug, “I’ll need to okay the paperwork.” She stood, added, “I’ll see you both later,” and left.

Tina asked Lilly, “Did Ziggy give you everything you needed?” 

“Yes,” she answered, paused, then added, “although I think she lowballed the odds of that poor boy running across the remains of his dog.”

Tina’s lips quirked at one corner and her eyes rolled downward for a moment, “That’s the trouble with probability, isn’t it? No matter the odds before the incident, afterwards probability is always either zero or one.”

“Right,” Lilly half-groaned, “Schrodinger.”

“Essentially,” Tina said, smiling.


End file.
